The Family Man Part 15

"Apparently someone else is less reserved around ... someone else."

Todd says, "I'm taking that to mean he's not always talk-showhost material. I'm also taking it as a compliment."

A waiter enters the room, clasps his hands operatically, and delivers the cheese cave orientation. As soon as he's set the menus before them, Thalia says, "It's not that Henry isn't entertaining. It's just that his other sterling qualities are more obvious."

"Such as?" Todd asks.

She counts on her fingers. "He's very kind, very open-minded, very generous. He's an excellent audience-which is high on my list. Very hospitable. Very thoughtful."

"Enough," says Henry. "I'm here. No need for the testimonials."

"I think you should let this flow uninterrupted," says Todd, with a full swivel in Thalia's direction. "Is that a vintage twinset?"

"It is. Yet new to my collection."

"Let's get some wine and let's make some decisions," Henry says.

Todd winks at Thalia and opens his menu. "Hmmm. This sounds delicious, doesn't it: cheese du jour a la cave odeureuse."

"Where?" says Thalia.

"He made that up," Henry tells her.

"Are you funny at work?" she asks Todd.

"I would be if place mats and napkin rings lent themselves to jokes."

"They do," says Henry.

Todd pa.s.ses the breadbasket to Thalia, noting that Gracious Home carries this very line of damask in which the rolls are swathed. "Henry happened to observe me in action: A woman brought in an heirloom shmatte tablecloth, and I had a little fun with her. Which can only happen if you've read the customer right. It's a waste of my time to make jokes with a stiff."

"I know exactly what you mean," says Thalia. "And don't you find that you recognize almost immediately-from a look, a twinkle in their eye-how far you can take it? My high school drama coach used to say, 'It's not just acting. It's reacting,' because some of the kids would say their lines and just stand there expressionless until it was their turn again." Immediately she demonstrates the slackest, most high-schoolesque glazed eye a director would ever call for. "That's when I leave it at h.e.l.lo, goodbye, and thank you."

"When Henry told me you're an actress, I was thrilled," says Todd.

"Did he tell you about my day job? Well, my day job until today, anyway. Coat-check la.s.s at Salon Gerard? On West Fifty-seventh?"

"Not laid off, I hope?"

Thalia looks up from her menu, a silent consultation with Henry. "Not laid off"," she says firmly.

"With something else lined up?"

When neither Thalia nor Henry answers and they appear to be sending signals across the table, Todd says, "It's okay. I get it. No shame in that."

"In what?" Thalia asks.

"Stepdad underwriting sabbatical? Isn't that what I'm reading?" Henry sees Thalia's eager, confessional face and shakes his head.

"C'mon," says Thalia. "It'll be fun to tell him."

Henry knows she is right. What they have to report is Hollywood chatter of a very high order. But he is her lawyer and Todd is a near-stranger- Thalia says, "I know you're torn. I'll take full responsibility. You weren't present when I spilled the beans, okay? How's that?"

"Not good if you're lying under oath."

"I'm dying here," says Todd, just as the waiter returns and recites the night's featured dishes. They order in one fell swoop: three Cosmos, three of the special salads, two halibuts, one organic chicken breast, a California white, the six-selection cheese course, and a chocolate souffle that requires advance notice.

As soon as they are alone again, Todd raises his right hand. "If this were a bookstore, or a synagogue, or my born-again coworker Sharon's apartment, I'd have my left hand on a Bible." He asks if Henry would like to have a word with Thalia in private, because he'll be happy to visit the men's room. Will a few minutes be enough time?

"Thank you," Henry says.

But Thalia says, "I don't think that's necessary, do you? He's sworn not to tell a living soul."

"The courts take these agreements very seriously, Thalia." He turns to Todd. "Thalia has signed a confidentiality agreement, which, I've noticed, she is compelled to violate once a day. Nothing that we say here can be repeated, ever. It would mean not only the end of the agreement, but of her career."

"So-called career," says Thalia.

"I think I will excuse myself," Todd says.

Henry says that might be very helpful. Todd leaves the cave, but not before flashing a V sign back toward Thalia. Henry waits, takes a sip of water, checks the door. "What's the hurry?" he pleads. "There's so much time! If Todd should see a headline or a photo he can ask me what's going on and I can say, 'It's not what it appears. Ask me again in six months.'"

Thalia touches Henry's closest hand. "You're worried about the relationship not lasting, but I'm not. He's a keeper." And with a flourish to an invisible master of ceremonies she says grandly, "Please bring him back in."

Todd is ecstatic. He says it'll be like presidential letters, unopened until ten or fifty years after his death. What about clothes for this gig? What about her apartment? Is anyone styling it? What an opportunity! And down the road? Any chance that this Leif Dumont could grow on Thalia? Because that would be the real fairy-tale romance. You're hired, purely business, and you fall in love!

"Starring Julia Roberts and Richard Gere, thank you," says Thalia.

"Not possible?"

Henry says, "He's a very odd duck. There's nothing obviously appealing about him."

Thalia says, "He was sick the day we had the meeting at the Waldorf."

"Intelligent?" Todd asks.

"Hard to tell," says Thalia. "Too strange-"

"And socially awkward," Henry adds. "Even Aspergian."

"How's he going to fare in the limelight?" Todd asks.

Henry says, "That's where Thalia comes in."

Thalia strikes a pose that is all head, shoulders, and red carpet.

"Wardrobe?" Todd asks.

"On its way, they tell me."

"And her grandmother's hand-me-downs," says Henry.

Thalia says, "Henry? I forget: Did Williebelle know me?"

"She met you. Certainly. And of course she was at the wedding."

"I was the flower girl," Thalia tells Todd.

"Is there a video?" he asks.

Henry shakes his head. "Denise was widowed. It didn't seem ... seemly."

Thalia hoots, "Ha! 'Seemly.' Who thought that? Not the bride, I bet."

Todd says, "Can we get back to Leif Dumont? What has he done, and why would the paparazzi care where he's clubbing and with whom?"

"Scar Tissue?" Thalia offers. "Frantic? Torso Motel?"

"Produced, directed, and starred in," Henry explains.

"Land of Louie launched him, sort of," adds Thalia. "The TV show? He played the upstairs neighbor that everyone ran away from."

"Hence the PR problem," says Henry.

"I a.s.sume money is changing hands for this romantic undertaking?" Todd asks.

"Mais oui," says Thalia. "And my lawyer here negotiated a few nice perks that have to do with career expansion after Leif publicly breaks my heart."

The waiter enters the cave with three Cosmos on a tray, a stunning spiral of lime zest decorating each gla.s.s. "This could really be quite delicious," says Todd.

18. Don't Look So Worried.

ESTIME INTERNATIONAL'S grooming team arrives at West 75th at 5:00 P.M. on Sat.u.r.day. Henry and Todd are upstairs in the little den off the library, drinking mint juleps in honor of the Kentucky Derby, an hour away on NBC. They are fully aware that a hairdresser and a manicurist are making house calls below, because both, arriving separately, rang Henry's doorbell in search of client Thalia Archer. Todd is itching to consult; at the very least shouldn't they call downstairs and see if Thalia needs second and third opinions on any aspect of her toilette? Finally Henry puts the Derby preliminaries on pause and calls downstairs. Thalia's voice has the stilted quality of someone whose hair is being styled against her will. She says, "I do have company. But if Todd wanted to shoot downstairs for a quick h.e.l.lo-and you, too-I can definitely take a break. Bring some alcohol."

Todd is signaling, Let me. Henry hands him the phone. "Is everything okay?" he asks, then listens, pacing. "Okay. I know you can't talk in front of her. I'm on my way." He clicks the phone shut and says, "Let's go. Beauty nine-one-one."

"We called her"

"Need I say more: bangs." His fingers chop along his forehead. "Doesn't she have bangs already?"

"She has layers. Someone is asking for bangs, right to the eyebrow. C'mon. You'll play the lawyer card if necessary-creative control or client approval or whatever." He leads the way, into the foyer and toward the front door, but Henry says, "No, this way. We don't have to go outside. There's a stairway from the kitchen."

Halfway down the pa.s.sage, Todd stops and touches the wall behind the handrail. "Excuse me, but I'm noting there are chunks of granite and, if I'm not mistaken, dirt. Are we right up against the foundation? Don't these rocks sweat in the summer?"

"Truthfully, I don't know what they do in the summer. It's only been since Thalia moved in that I've used this stairway."

"Better lighting, please," says Todd, pointing at the single bare bulb. "I don't want you to fall and break your neck." He gives the shoulders in front of him a brief, protective squeeze. Henry stands still, takes it in, manages only, "Thank you. I'll be careful."

They find Thalia draped in a plastic cape on a kitchen chair in the middle of the room, hair wet and unattended. A sinewy woman in a tank top frowns by the kitchen sink, arms crossed, a comb in one hand and a scissors in the other. An Asian woman in a lab coat is studiously filing the nails of Thalia's left hand.

"h.e.l.lo, my people," Thalia says. "Here we have Dawn and...?"

"Yumi," says the manicurist.

Todd says h.e.l.lo, thanks for coming, and what is the thinking behind bangs?

Dawn says, "My thinking? That she needs them." She strides over to her client and pushes wisps of hair off Thalia's forehead, none too gently. "Would you agree that it's splotchy?"

Henry asks, "Where?"

Todd, with a mild shrug, asks, "Who's doing makeup?"

"I am," says Thalia. "And don't look so worried. They gave in on that one."

"Do you have concealer?" he asks.

"I have a stick. And powder. I can fix it. n.o.body's ever noticed I had a splotchy forehead." She smiles mysteriously, a signal Henry is beginning to recognize as a leap into improv. "Especially Trevor, in that ivory tower of his. I could show up as a blond tonight, or with a mouth full of braces, and he wouldn't notice."

"So you've shared with Dawn what tonight is about?" Henry asks carefully.

Thalia says, "I haven't had a chance." She turns to Yumi. "Trevor is my law school professor. I've worked for him as a TA all semester. He's taking me out to dinner tonight as a thank-you. And it's now or never. I graduate in two weeks. He's taking a job in Alaska. If he doesn't declare his love tonight, it's over." She sighs. "And here's another reason to nix the bangs: He's thirty years older. I don't want to remind him of the age difference."

"And don't his twin daughters, the teenagers, have bangs?" Todd asks.

"He's married?" Dawn asks.

"Of course not," says Thalia. "He's a widower."

"More to the point," says Henry, "her last haircut was lovely. I wouldn't monkey with it too much."

"And Trevor knows me this way-plain, simple, recognizable."

Dawn picks up a lock of Thalia's beautifully highlighted hair, with a smirk that says, Plain and simple, my a.s.s. She plugs in an extension cord, then a hair dryer, and brings forth an enormous cylindrical brush from her suitcase of wares. Yumi retreats to the kitchen table. The men watch as Dawn dries and styles in silence, her expression a frozen neutral.

"Nice and shiny," says Henry.

"It's the vodka," says Thalia. "Back when Dawn was speaking to me, she told me her secret: vodka in the shampoo." Without consulting a mirror, she runs her fingers through the front locks, reversing their direction.

"I like that you gave her more loft," says Todd. "Which is just right for a night on the town. Just that extra little oomph she needed."

"Not to mention under very primitive conditions," Henry adds.

"A trainee could have done it," Dawn snarls. "A beauty school dropout. What I do is cut. I don't even style. I certainly don't blow-dry."